


Straight from a Dream.

by skeletonWings (checkeredbow)



Category: DCU (Comics), Super Sons (Comics), 君の名は。| Kimi no Na wa. | Your Name.
Genre: All aboard the idk what to tag jons name as train, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Kimi no Na wa AU, M/M, Then I make things up., a few ocs to carry the plot along, also slow burn because i can't predict my pacing ever, arguably a soulmate fic, follows some canon.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-02-15
Updated: 2018-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-21 06:14:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9535355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/checkeredbow/pseuds/skeletonWings
Summary: "Come to think of it, it feels like I've been stuck in some weird dream. A dream about someone else's life."Damian and Jon both wake from a strange dream and discover that they were each missing the last 24 hours.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> **Warning!**  
>  This fic follows the general idea/plot of Kimi no Na Wa (Your Name) and will undoubtedly give you **spoilers**.  
>  If you're planning to watch Kimi no Na Wa at any time in the near future, do that first. It's too beautiful a movie to be spoiled like this. 
> 
> Unfortunately, I have only started getting into DC and its universe. So along with occasional OOC-ness, I also followed what little bits of canon I know and then bridged from there. This is an AU so I've gone and changed up character backgrounds and family structures. (Don't worry, if it all goes well, it'll come around in full circle.) So I guess I'm just saying, "keep an open mind"? ~~Or just me covering my butt, who knows.~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's celebrate the release of Super Sons with a fic! ;D

Everyone is born into this universe for a reason.

Perhaps it's to fight evil and protect the weak.

Maybe it's to put on a show and make the world smile.

Or maybe it's to find peace within oneself.

Finding the people one belongs to?

 

_Or maybe it's to save a world to meet you again._

 

* * *

 

 

Damian was lacing up his boots when he heard the soft tap of Nightwing's shoes on the ground beside him. Most people would have heard nothing at all, but the entire family had been trained to be silent and to listen for the softest sounds. Nightwing stopped behind him just as he finished double knotting the boots.

"Are you feeling better, Little D?"

"Never better, Grayson," Damian frowned as he put on the domino mask. His outfit was complete and he stood up from the bottom steps of the Batcave. "Why do you ask? I don't recall being sick."

"...Really?" Nightwing was frowning now. "Last night you took five steps into Gotham and said you had a stomachache and begged to go home."

"Begged?" Robin snorted, "Very funny, Grayson."

"Why did you think I was concerned?" Nightwing shot back.

"Why would I ever beg?" Robin deadpanned, "I don't remember any of this happening. Yesterday, I--" he stopped. What did he do yesterday? Yesterday was a long time away, wasn't it? The soft whirring of machines suddenly got louder in Robin's ears and the cave seemed to grow dimmer.

_(He looked out from a building high in the air at a red sunset. No, wait, that couldn't be a sunset! That's not west!_

_Damian quickly looked at his surroundings. He was in a bed-- not his own. This room wasn't his own. Frantically, Damian rushed to the window and pressed his hands against the glass. Its shape was like that of a church window-- what an awfully strange shape in this day and age._

_Where was he?_

_Who had taken him?_

_The questions faded from his mind as he looked outside, though. The architecture of the city outside was like nothing he had seen before and he had studied his history and geography intensively under both Ra's and Batman's tutelage._

_"...I must be dreaming," he whispered.)_

Robin could only recall bits and pieces of that dream now, each moment fading away with every second he spent awake. Strange. If he remembered correctly, the dream had phased through a whole day. ...But it was still a dream. He shouldn't be confusing dreams with reality.

"Yesterday, I got into an argument with Father," Robin finally declared. Yes, it took a while, but he finally got it! Now Grayson can stop this ridiculous story and they'll get back to starting their patrol. It's a quarter past nine and they still haven't made it out of the cave yet.

Nightwing's expression scrunched up slightly, before returning to the same frown he was wearing prior. "No. You didn't," his voice was calm and steady. And, honestly, that was enough to put Robin on a slight edge. Grayson wasn't playing around. Something was missing or disconnected here and he couldn't put his finger on it. "That was the day before yesterday," Nightwing looked away and walked over to the main computer, "Robin, maybe you should stay back tonight."

"Preposterous! I am perfectly fine--"

"Memory problems are not fine. We should run a scan on you. Check your brain out, maybe see if that accident two nights ago affected you more than we thought."

"Grayson! I am. _Fine_ ," Robin nearly hissed out the last word, "Let's just get on with patrol." He flipped his cape once and started stalking towards where the Batmobile and other vehicles were parked.

"Little D, wait! I really don't think you should go on patrol tonight--"

"You can think whatever you like, Grayson! That won't stop me from patrolling when I want to!"

"Robin!" that was the Batman voice, "Stop. Stay home for tonight. Recall what you can about the last two days. Red Robin can cover for you tonight."

"Grayson, I--"

"Will let you patrol when you're better," Nightwing's expression soften as he went over to ruffle Robin's hair, "I just want you to be safe."

"Do not coddle me, I am not a child."

"...Except you are."

"Tt."

"When we patrol next time, we can go for milkshakes afterwards."

"With five toppings?"

"...With five toppings," Nightwing agreed, then mumbled, "my poor wallet..."

"Okay," Robin agreed and Nightwing gave him another hair ruffle before watching him retreat back to the inner parts of the cave.

 

 

_48 hours prior_

The splatter of blood and the crunch of a broken nose felt so satisfying under his fists. Almost as good as when he first caught the fellow trying to run away. Upon catching up to the criminal in the shadows of a side street, Robin had put in several maneuvers to dislocate shoulders, crack ribs, and break wrists before punching his face in.

"Robin, stop!" Batman's voice came from above and he was pulled back by his cape.

"What?" Robin demanded as he was held in the air. If it was anyone other than his father (...and maybe Grayson), he would've kicked them in the teeth for attempting to manhandle him. "I didn't kill him and he's not going to die from a bloody nose!"

"Your violence was excessive," Batman's voice was calm and it only served to irritate Robin further.

"I gave him what he deserved for his crime!" he snapped back, then added, "Other than death, of course."

"That's not our decision to make," Batman decided to let Robin down onto his feet again. He had the boy's attention so it was unlikely that Robin would go back to beating the life out of the man on the floor.

"That's what you say every time!"

"And I'll continue to say it until you understand what it means."

"I understand perfectly what it means!" he had been raising his voice throughout the whole conversation and by the time he finished this last sentence, he was all but yelling. "See?!" he pointed at the man who had rolled onto his side and was grasping his chest trying to breathe, "I left him alive!"

"Leaving a criminal alive isn't all this means."

"Then what? To instill fear, _I'm_ sure this man's terrified of me right now."

"Instilling fear isn't torture."

"I wasn't torturing--" the man let out a pained cough on the pavement below and Robin clenched his fists. It hadn't been torture. He hadn't enjoyed--

Robin drew a breath and grit his teeth. Without another word, he pulled out his grappling gun and shot it at the building above them. Robin was furious. He didn't hear the sound, but Batman did.

"Robin, wait--"

Robin clicked the trigger again to pull him up. Like hell he was going to stay here! He didn't want to and therefore, he'll leave--

_SNAP!_

Robin's eyes widened underneath the domino mask. He was halfway up the building when the line snapped and he was in free fall. He reached out to grab something, _anything_! Because although he knew he had enough armor on to survive this fall, it was still going to hurt like hell.

 _The fire escape,_ his hand reached out and-- _missed!_

"ROBIN!"

_CRACK._

The world blacked out.

 

A soft breeze drifted in from outside the window. It felt like the chilly, crisp air of a spring morning. But the sun was a deep red and the sky was pink. Damian was sure that he had never seen the sun with such a red color. On top of that, was that a moon in the horizon? The night was disappearing quickly and the visibility of the moon leaving with it. Damian rubbed his eyes. He could make out what looked like a city on the moon. (Wait, how close was this moon?) He couldn't tell for sure, it was like a tiny, blurry view from an airplane's window.

The architecture below him was spectacular. He was on a multistory structure with bridges that connected to other, similar structures. Each one of them had heavily engraved spires reaching into the sky. The people below were like ants and-- oh!

Damian blinked, was that a flying car? It was a hovercraft of some sort.

 _I must be dreaming,_ he thought to himself again. The detail was amazing, but he was sure to forget by the time he woke up. "Since I'm dreaming, I must be royalty of this place," he declared with a smug grin as he looked away from the window and back into his room.

...It was surprisingly messy.

A number of items ranging from what appeared to be advanced electronic toys to workbooks were scattered on the floor. A number of articles of clothing were piled onto an armchair (? it looked sit-able, but... blobby) rather than the half empty closet.

"Tt," Damian made his way across the room to closet. He'll clean up later (or not at all because this was a dream). First, he had to change out of these silly looking pajamas.

 _This 'S' looks familiar_ , and he was sure the dreamscape was messing with him because he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was.

Damian pushed hangers over in the closet to search for something nice to wear. Strange. For royalty, he should had a lot of worn clothing in the closet. And... he made a face, what a strange style. Everything looked like cyberpunk...

He supposed he could chalk it up to the futuristic society itself.

As he was going through the articles of clothing, he saw that a mirror was hung on the back of the closet door. He had been so focused on the contents of the closet that he hadn't thought to take a look--

"AHHH!!" Damian let out a yell and stumbled backwards just as the door to his room burst open.

"Jon-El?" a blue-eyed, blonde girl called in concern from the doorway.

"Who?!" Damian immediately blurted out as he jumped to his feet and took a defensive stance.

"Woah," the girl backed up slightly and put her hands up, "Um. It's me. Your sister? Lora-El?"

"...What?" Damian blinked. He didn't have a sister named Lora-El.

"Look, Jon," she rolled her eyes, "We've got to get to school in ten minutes and if you're not ready in two, I'm leaving you." The door was slammed shut and Damian relaxed his pose.

"School?"

Royalty went to school?

Damian's eyes flew back to the mirror and grimaced at what he was seeing-- not that the reflection was ugly or anything, but that wasn't _him_. His hair and eyes were the same color, but the face in the mirror was slightly rounder, with lips that looked like they were used to smiling. "Tt," what was going on? Why would he dream that he had a different appearance? Well, whatever. He could play this to the end.

School it was.

What the hell was his name again? James or something?

 

"Woah," Lora said as Damian walked into the dining room. "What are you wearing? And why the hair?"

"Huh?" Damian asked as he sat down on an empty gloopy looking chair (thank God it didn't _feel_ gloopy) and looked at the bowl in front of him. More gloopy things. Why was this dream full of gloopy things?

"Why are you dressed like two centuries ago?"

"What?" Damian blinked and looked at his clothes. He had found a single white button up shirt in the back of the closet and pulled a sweater over it. The pants were... well, he found the least cybernetic looking pair in the closet. Perhaps a little nerdy, but it resembled his uniform in Gotham Academy. He figured it would be fine here too.

"Okay, first of all, what's with that hairstyle?"

He had pulled it back to make it neater. Damian wasn't sure why he looked like this in his dream, but for sure, he wasn't going to walk around with such a messy mop of hair. How did his dream-self even see through all this hair?

"And I know you like dressing sweats and t-shirts at home, but this is a new change for you. Besides, we have a uniform," Lora pulled at her own clothes to make the point.

Shit, _what_ in that closet resembled Lora's clothes remotely?

"I'll... go change," Damian said as he stood up.

"Hurry up!" Lora said as she licked her eating utensil and pushed the empty bowl away. "What's the matter with you today, Jon?"

"Nothing's the matter with me," Damian shot back.

"Woah, okay. I'll wait outside."

 

Damian had changed into an absurd uniform that was a cross between militaristic and clerical. (He briefly wondered if there was a separation of church and government here.) He refused to un-do his hair, though. If this dream lasted any longer than the school day, he had every mind to go get a haircut.

After getting Lora to lead him to his classroom without seeming like too much of an idiot, Damian faced yet another dilemma. The classroom setting looked more or less like that of the waking world, save for the blobby chairs and glowing tables. Thankfully, none of the chairs actually felt sticky and gooey. It just looked that way for reasons Damian couldn't begin to imagine. Most of the class was already seated at their desks and as Damian made his way to through the aisles, everyone was giving him strange looks.

"Jon! Jon, where are you going?" a boy pulled at his arm and Damian reflexively twisted out of his hold. "-- Yeow! Ouch, stop! Jon, what are you doing?! You're hurting me!"

"Oh."

 _Jon. That's me. Right._ Why couldn't his dream at least get his name right? He let go of the boy who quickly clutched his wrist to his chest. "What?" he demanded of the boy.

"I was just asking where you're going. Your seat's over there," the boy whimpered and pointed meekly at the seat he just passed.

"Hmph, of course."

Thankfully, the exchange had gone unnoticed by most of the class. Only a few heads turned to see what caused the other boy to yell. Everyone else was still engrossed in pre-class conversations.

But now, he had another problem.

The teacher had gotten the class to quiet down and start up the screens on their desks. (Damian just copied what the students to his left and right were doing and managed to open up the right application on the desk.) Then, she started writing across the electronic board in symbols Damian had never seen before.

_But they were speaking English the entire time!_

"Jon!" the teacher suddenly turned to the class.

"..." it took him a moment to remember that was him, "... Yes?"

"Read this sentence and identify the tense and subject of it."

Tense and subject? What grade was this? Third? That would be simple. If he could read it.

Every head was turned to look at him now as Damian weighed the options in his mind.

Well. To hell with it. This was just a dream! And dreams exist to amplify anxiety and stage fright anyways. "I cannot," he admitted.

"What?" the teacher screeched, "This is ridiculous! We spent half a day yesterday going over grammar structures when I realized that _somehow_ this entire class of twelve year olds slept through the third grade when they taught it to you!"

Hmm. So he was twelve. Same age as when he was awake. _That's good news, I suppose_ , Damian thought as the teacher continued to screech. The entire class appeared to be terrified, but Damian had been through a lot worse.

By lunchtime, Damian wasn't sure how he managed to get through his morning classes. "English" didn't work out well. Math was thankfully the same in the dream world as it was in the real world. He couldn't read any of the text during the history lesson.

"Jon, you're usually so good at English and History class!" one of the boys who sat near him said as the entire class arrived at the cafeteria. Damian ignored him as he spotted his _sister_ already sitting at one of the tables with a group of girls. ...No matter, there was no point in joining them. "What's going on?!"

"Yea, why's your hair like this?" another boy asked and reached over to touch his hair. Damian reacted accordingly by twisting out of the way and kicking the boy's feet out from under him. "Ow! What gives?!"

"...Reflex," Damian mumbled.

"You start taking military training or something?"

"Anyways, we have a quiz in Old Tongue next class! You study hard this time, Jon?"

"Old Tongue?" Damian repeated.

"We all know it's your worst subject!"

Damian tutted in response as they approached the lunch line. Upon receiving his goopy meal, he frowned at the sight of it. It didn't look much better than breakfast. Was this stuff really edible?

After lunch, they returned to their classroom and Damian was greeted with the word "Quiz" spelled out on the board. "No way," he mumbled as he took his seat and his "friends" around him groaned at the inevitable.

"Okay, no complaining! I told you about this quiz a week ago, you all better have studied!" their teacher said as the screen on Damian's desk changed into a column of numbers from one to twenty. "Okay, spell the following words in Old Tongue. Let's get some of the hardest words out of the way first!" she paused for dramatic effect as the students pulled out their pens to write, "Desk."

There was a flurry of plastic tips hitting plastic desktops and Damian froze. _Desk_ was a difficult word to spell??! Oh, geez. Just what has language evolved into in this world.

...Wait, evolved into?

The thought was a small odd blip in his mind. A possibility of what this place was, but no. Damian shooed the thought away as quickly as it had came. There was no way. This was a dream. He'll wake up any minute now.

The quiz was over and the application closed out on his desk automatically. The teacher declared that it was journal writing time in the Old Tongue while she graded the quizzes. Damian stared at the blank screen before him. It was lined as though to mimic loose-leaf pages.

With a sigh, he wrote down a few paragraphs. He noticed that the other students had dictionary applications opened up on the side to help them with the task. Curious, he opened the app as well and began to search for translations between the "Old Tongue" and "English."

After learning a few words, Damian noticed that the application in front of him was an _actual_ journal. There were several entries before this one written in "Old Tongue." Flipping to yesterday's entry, he began to read.

_I went to visit Uncle Jor and Anty_

(Damian took a moment to correct that to _Aunty_ in his mind.)

 _Lara yesterday. They showed me cool items. Uncle Jor tich_ (taught, Damian extrapolated) _me about rockets. Him_ (he is) _very good at science. I can not wait to revisit again. Another time, Lora can come too._

It was such a short entry compared to Damian's that he was a bit disappointed. He decided to flip a page back.

 _Rol-Zod caught I_ (me) _in the play area during Lunch. He hit me and lied to ticher_ (teacher) _. Him_ (He) _dos_ (does) _anything him_ (he) _want to be cause his Uncle if_ (is) _the Ginral_ (General).

Damian frowned. That entry didn't sound good. It was full of mistakes and only three sentences long. How pathetic. With a frustrated sigh, he quickly wrote a correct rendition of the entry below it. Then, he flipped to the beginning and started reading through. The entire class seemed preoccupied with the activity and the teacher was still grading anyways.

After fifteen minutes of reading (they were all short entries), Damian had discovered that his ... dream self? Can he still call himself that? Honestly, he seemed like a different person altogether.

... Damian had discovered that Jon-El was a twelve year old boy born and raised in this city. He lived with his parents and his sister and seemed to either like or spend more time (or both) with his Aunt and Uncle than his parents. His uncle was a scientist and his aunt had a nice political standing in the city.

He didn't learn much about the politics from Jon's entries. The information he managed to get was that it was ruled by a Council, but they weren't elected individuals. It was a monarchy of multiple houses. The House of El that Jon was from wasn't a member of the Council, but had high standing with them.

"I have finished grading your quizzes!" their teacher exclaimed, "Wow, I am impressed! One of you got a perfect score! Congratulations, Jon-El!"

"Tt. Of course."

 

"A perfect score in Old Tongue?! Crazy!" Lora exclaimed as the two of them walked home from school. They arrived at their apartment and although Lora was still talking excitedly, Damian ignored her. He was suddenly feeling so tired.

Strange.

Can you feel tired in a dream?

Without changing out of his uniform, Damian crawled into bed. Looking out the window, he remembered his first thought. The sun was red. It was still red. It had been red the entire day.  

_Tt._

The world blacked out for the second time in the last forty eight hours and Damian woke with a start.

 

His room was dark.

The sun was just barely passing over the horizon, making a blue glow in the distance. It took a moment to sink in. He had been dreaming and now he was finally awake. "...Of course," he mumbled with a soft chuckle, "None of that could've possibly been real." He blinked and looked around, immediately scrunching his face up in distaste. It was dark, but he knew someone had been in his room. "Drake!" he yelled as he kicked books and clothes across the floor and flung his bedroom door open, "Did you go into my room again?!"

It was during his morning routine that Damian saw a black smudge on his hand. It appeared to be a pentagon with a... swirl? It was horribly smudged, but there was something familiar about it. He had seen it recently. Yet, he didn't remember drawing it on himself.

 

"Morning, Damian!" Maps greeted Damian with a large grin as he walked into the school.

"Greetings, Mizoguchi," Damian returned and proceeded to walk past to his classroom. Maps blinked before hurrying after him.

"Damian?"

"What?"

"Oh... no... Nothing," she frowned, disappointed. Damian furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. What was she expecting? He greeted her like always.

The day passed by smoothly. Nothing strange or out of the ordinary. (What a miracle.) People reacted a little odd towards him, but nothing that caused Damian to feel anything more than a small itch he couldn't scratch. He could bear that.

Then the evening before his patrol shift happened. Grayson told him to reflect on the past forty-eight hours and he did. Yesterday he argued with Father, then he woke up in the morning in his room.

... In his room.

Why was he in his room? Surely Batman would've put him in the med bay in the cave until he first woke up. Why did they transport him into his room in the manor? Damian pulled his gauntlets off and rubbed his fingers over his left palm. The drawing on his hand was only a faded black smudge now.

He was forgetting something.

What did he dream about last night?

After changing out of his Robin costume, Damian made his way to his room. If he wasn't going on patrol tonight, he might as well work on some homework to pass the time. Opening up his notebook for English, he flipped to the back where he normally did the homework portion of the class.

"Huh?" Damian sat up straight as he found strange writing on the last written on page of the notebook.

The passage was only a few paragraphs long, but filled with spelling and grammar mistakes. The short sentences and the awkward repetitive structure was like that of a third grader or someone new to the language.

And at the very end, with every word spelled and used correctly--

 

_Who are you?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I should also warn y'all before you get too invested.  
> I have a bad habit of falling into writers block the moment things start heating up and moving and it may take months for me to post a chapter.


	2. Chapter 2

Jon's eyes opened to a familiar ceiling. He quickly pushed the covers off and jumped out the bed to the closet. He was still in his school uniform and nearly tripped over his Bio-Lego toys as he slammed his hands onto either side of the full length mirror hanging on the closet door.

He panted, eyes wide as he recognized the boy staring back at him to be himself. "Oh, thank God. Just a dream," he whispered as he relaxed and brought a hand to his hair-- Oh, what the?!

Jon blinked.

Why was his hair gelled back like this? Hell, he didn't even know he owned gel. He had left it in for a long time, too. His hair was stiff and flaky and _ughh, gross!!_ He'll have to wash all of it out quickly before he left for school.

"Lora!" he yelled into the hallway as soon as he opened his door.

"What?" his sister yelled back from her own room.

"Did you do something to my hair?!"

"Huh? No," Lora frowned as she stepped out of her own room and into the hallway with Jon. "I asked you about this yesterday. You walked out of your room for school with your hair swept back like that."

"What? No, I didn't! Yesterday, I--" Jon stopped himself. Yesterday? Yesterday felt like a long time off. In fact, "yesterday" felt like the dream he had where he was jumping off rooftops and flying through the sky. "I went to visit Uncle Jor for the second time this week," yes. That's right. He remembered that happening before he had that strange dream.

"No," Lora's frown deepened, "that was the day before yesterday. C'mon! Yesterday, you were acting like such a flake. You couldn't even remember where your classroom was!"

"I couldn't?" hmm. How strange. He did do something like that in his dream.

"And on top of that, you aced your Old Tongue quiz!"

"I _did_?!" then, Jon smiled, "Now I know you're lying to me, Lora. I couldn't have possibly aced anything in Old Tongue. Besides, I'm pretty sure my quiz is today. I spent all night studying for it last night."

"You did!" Lora protested.

"Sure I did," Jon grinned again, "Let's eat breakfast. I don't want to be late!"

At the dining table, Lora stared as Jon wolfed down his breakfast. "Come to think of it," she mumbled, "You eat so much, but yesterday, you barely touched any food."

"Huh?"

Lora shook her head and gave her brother a smile, "Nothing, I must've been imagining things. There's no way you could _not_ eat as much as you normally do."

 

The first half of Jon's school day passed by normally. His friends kept bringing up things that happened the day before, but Jon couldn't remember. Something about screwing up in English and History, his best subjects, and excelling in Math and Old Tongue, his worst. But it was mundane things. Like playing a small prank on their teacher in English class and just glazing over the texts in History. He had probably just gotten lucky with Math and Old Tongue.

"Rol was absent yesterday, but I heard he's back now. We better stay out of his way."

Jon immediately grit his teeth and made himself as small as possible. He didn't like this topic. Rol was the school bully who hurt anyone who got in his way. Sometimes, he hurt the other students just because he wanted to. His uncle was the General and held a lot of power in the government. He made all sorts of important decisions for expansion, colonialism. ...Jon saw it on the news all the time.

And Jon was just one of Rol's many personal punching bags. The school couldn't discipline Rol the same way the other students. They'd reprimand him, but it was only a slap on the wrist. It disgusted him and sometimes, Jon would jump in to stop some of the smaller students from getting bullied. But it wasn't enough. Rol was still bigger, meaner, and punched a lot harder with his afterschool military combat lessons. Jon lifted his head slightly and saw Rol sitting in the other end of the cafeteria surrounded by other boys from military families. Not all of the children of military families joined Rol, but the biggest ones did.

Shaking his head, Jon finished wolfing down the rest of his lunch and stood up, "I'm going back to the classroom first. I want to study Old Tongue a bit more before the quiz!"

"There's a quiz today?! She just gave us one yesterday!"

"No, it's today. The one she told us about."

"Jon, you got a perfect score yesterday, don't brag! That's not like you," one of his friends laughed.

"Oh, very funny," Jon pouted and crossed his arms, "Don't try to trick me out of a passing grade! I really can't take another single digit quiz score!" Before any of his friends could try to convince him otherwise again, he turned and left the cafeteria.

Arriving at his desk, Jon opened up the Old Tongue dictionary and his journal. He could review his old entries as practice. The application popped open to the newest entry and Jon's eyebrows shot up in surprise. An extremely long entry showed up, nothing he could possibly write. _Did the programming screw up and put someone else's file in mine,_ he questioned. But, he was sure that no one in his class was at this level of Old Tongue either. Not even Lora, who was three years older, was capable of this.

Curious, he put the dictionary on the side of his screen and started trying to read the entry.

_My name is--_

Jon had to stop and look up the next two words. To his surprise, they weren't in the dictionary. Then, he recognized what the sentence was trying to say.

_My name is Damian Wayne._

And the edges of his memory started to pull at the dream he had almost completely forgotten.

 

 

_48 hours prior_

Jon left Lora at the third intersection after they leave school. "I'll see you later," Lora said with a small wave, "Come back in time for dinner, okay? I'll make your favorite!"

"Thanks, Lora!" Jon waves back and hurried to get on the public hover bus. He fished through his pockets for the right marble currency to toss into the turnstile installed in the front of the bus. He gave a nod and a smile to the driver before hurrying to the back.

It would take some time before he arrived at his stop.

Half an hour later, Jon was at the city center, running down the streets as fast as he could without bumping into people (he still bumped into two). The buildings here were taller than the one he lived in and the multi level arches reached high into the air. Crowds of people walked through them, chatting and laughing without a care in the world. Above, the red sun burned brightly and Jon grinned.

It was such a beautiful day!

Arriving at a slightly shorter building with narrow, tinted windows, Jon pushed open the door and rushed inside. The lady sitting at the security desk frowned at his behavior, but didn't reprimand him (she had done it many times in the past and even she was tired of keeping it up). He skidded to a stop in front of glowing metal detectors and greeted the officer standing in front of them, "Good afternoon, Sir! Got stuck with the boring shift?"

"Oh-ho, no shift is ever boring when you come running around," the officer joked in return before leaning down to mock whisper to Jon, "Don't look now, but I bet you that Missy at the front desk is going to complain my ear off for the next half hour about your behavior!"

Jon laughed, "I wouldn't make a losing bet!"

"Now, now, Jon. You don't know if you would lose, right? Why not take a chance?"

"Nuh-uh! Uncle Jor taught me all about statistics! He says that if you bet, you're only going to lose!"

"Except when you win, right?"

"Um..."

The officer let out a jolly bark of laughter, "Go on in, Jon. And have a good time with your uncle!"

"Thanks, Sir!" Jon grinned as he walked through the detectors as calmly as possible. It would be no good to set them off and create more trouble for the two security officers, after all.

Once he was in, Jon broke off in another run. This time to the elevators that would bring him up to his uncle's lab. As soon as the doors opened onto the floor, Jon saw his uncle and jumped up for a hug, "Uncle Jor!"

"Jon!" his uncle exclaimed as he caught Jon and spun slightly. "Good to see you, how was school?"

"Good," Jon mumbled. He didn't mention that Rol had punched him in the stomach after Jon diverted his attention away from a tiny girl in the other class. He had spent the entire lunch period resting in the nurse's office until the pain went away.

"Well, would you like a snack, Jon?"

"Sure I would!"

After snacks had been eaten, Jon laid out his homework on an empty lab bench and got to work. Behind him, he could hear his uncle at work. The soft clinks of slides being fitted into a microscope. The humming of various machines as they enacted different environments on Jor's specimens.

Jon felt at peace.

After homework was finished (with help from Uncle Jor), Jon helped out with Jor's lab work. Jon didn't really understand completely what Uncle Jor was doing, but Jor always taught him something new when he came to the lab so it worked out. One day, when he got better at math, he could help Uncle Jor out for real.

"This is silicon," Jor said as he opened up a petri dish for Jon to see.

"Ooohh."

"Would you like to see it under the microscope?"

"Sure!"

They put the piece of semiconductor under the scope and Jon peered in. He didn't understand what was so fascinating about looking at a rock, but looking into the microscope felt so cool. After a minute of looking, Jon's attention was diverted to other parts of the lab. "Hey, Uncle, what's this stuff?" Jon went up to a box on a table in the back of the lab.

"What?" his uncle had been putting the silicon away--

"JON, NO!"

Jon immediately dropped the open box onto the ground, the specimen inside hitting the ground and splitting into two pieces. Jon gasped for air, wondering why everything hurt, why he felt so tired, why his body felt so constricting--

When Jon woke up, he was seated at the other side of the room. His vision was blurry, but cleared quickly. He saw his uncle with a mask and gloves on, busy cleaning up the mess of broken rock and putting it back in the box.

"Uncle Jor?" Jon mumbled as he got off the chair and walked closer.

"Stay over there, Jon."

"...Okay. Uncle Jor? What was that? It felt... really bad."

"That," Jor said as everything was put away onto a high shelf out of Jon's reach, "was Kryptonite." He removed the mask and gloves and walked over to Jon's side, "Some nasty stuff, Jon."

"Then why do you have it here?"

"I'm researching it."

"Why? If it's bad, why do you bother?"

"Because if there's a chance we can make a bad thing into a good thing, we'll have to study and learn as much as we can from it."

"But you said yesterday that you shouldn't take chances!"

"...I was talking about gambling."

"Gambling?"

"Uh... adult games?" Jor cleared his throat and looked out the window. The sun was setting. "Look at that, shouldn't you be on your way home to Lora? Why don't I drive you back?"

Jon shook his head, "No! You stay with your experiments!"

"Don't be silly, Jon. Especially after that Kryptonite exposure, I should drive you back."

"But--"

"I have to get home to Lara soon, too..."

Jon furrowed his eyebrows and pouted.

"Don't feel bad, Jon. I'm happy to take you home."

Jon's lips quirked up, "Thanks, Uncle Jor!"

 

The rest of Jon's evening passed by uneventfully. He ate dinner, then played a couple hours of games with Lora, and went to sleep.

"Good night, Lora!"

"Good night, Jon!" Lora said from the doorway before closing the door. Jon could hear her footsteps receding down the hall to her room.

It didn't take long for Jon to fall asleep.

 

Jon awoke with a start to bright lights and a pain throughout his body. He hissed in pain as he curled onto his side on the table. Wait--

Table??

Jon sat up and there was immediately a shadow next to him. The swish of fabric, a soft sound of feet on stone. He was in a cave of sorts, atop a medical table with computers and sensors beaming artificial blue light from the side. Above him was a lamp attached to the table/bed shining white light onto him.

"Damian," a voice whispered and Jon whipped his head around before letting out a cry of surprise. "Damian?" the person said again, this time with a light confusion in his tone.

Jon nearly fell off the table as he tried to register the masked man in front of him. "What-- Who-- Get away from me!" he yelled as he scooted to the edge of the table.

The man in front of him frowned, "Fine, if that's what you prefer, Damian. You're done patrolling tonight." With a swish of his cape, the man turned and walked off, barely making a single sound as he disappeared into the darkness of the cave.

"What?" Jon mumbled as he panted. His body ached and the entire place was confusing. What was going on? Where was he? Did he get kidnapped? _...And what did he call me?_

"Master Damian," a new voice said from beside him.

"AHH! Woah, what? Huh?" Jon gasped as he looked up at an older gentleman who was, thankfully, not wearing a mask and a cape.

"If you are feeling better, I have prepared a snack of cookies and milk for you upstairs before you go to bed."

"What? But I just woke up."

"I am aware, but you'll need more rest if your body is to heal."

"Body? Heal?"

"Master Damian?" the man's eyebrows lifted slightly, "Don't tell me you forgot. You had a nasty fall this evening. Is your memory alright?"

His memory was perfectly fine. His name was Jon-El. He was twelve years old. And would never in a million years wear a tacky, armored outfit with a cape like this one. Jeebus what was going on.

"My memory is fine."

"Then, please return to your room," the man said and disappeared into the shadows of the cave.

That was when it hit Jon.

Where was "his" room? He didn't know where he was, let alone the room of some boy named Damian.

Hell. Before he could even ask that: what was going on?

 

Jon eventually made his way upstairs. After his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he found the main staircase up. Then, he walked through an old Grandfather clock and into an enormous house. He had never seen anything like it before. Perhaps he had been kidnapped and put in some far off city on the other side of the planet? His captives weren't very keen on keeping him locked up, though. And what did they call him? Darren or something?

However dangerous the situation could potentially be, Jon's curiosity was getting the better of him and he began exploring the house he was in.

The architecture was strange, nothing like the gothic spirals he was used to. And the furniture looked ancient. Why weren't they memory gel? Instead, they were made of fabric and ... something soft and springy.

Jon eventually found a hallway with multiple doors and guessed that this was the most likely place to find "his" room. He opened the first door he came to and found a used, but empty room behind it. The curtains were drawn and the sheets on the bed were balled up slightly to the left, against the wall. The desk held a computer and a few open notebooks.

It was dark, but a mirror sitting on the shelf of the computer desk was reflecting light in from the hallway.

Jon froze.

The mirror was small and only showed his face.

_That's not my face!_

This face had a more square jaw and a darker skin tone. His hair had been pushed back, but even then, he could see the evidence of a used-to-be buzzcut. "No way..." Jon gasped as he took a few steps back, his feet unsteady against the carpet.

"Woah," two hands gripped his shoulders and Jon froze. When did someone get behind him? He twisted around to see an handsome young man holding him steady, "You okay there, Dami?"

"Uh... huh?"

"Why are you still dressed as Robin?" he asked as he gently peeled the domino mask off Jon's face. "You know Bruce doesn't like that."

"And why are you in front of my room?"

Jon snapped his head forward again. This time, a boy who was a few years older than him was standing in the doorway. When had he gotten there??

"I..."

"Hey, Tim!" the man behind him said, "I think Babywing here had a bad fall and is still recuperating from it."

Tim frowned, "I heard that Alfred checked him out and he's fine, Dick."

"I'm sure you've remembered a few bad falls when you first tried to fly, too," Dick teased and elbowed Tim, who had flushed red and playfully shoved Dick back.

"Anyways, I'll go help Robin get undressed and you get some more rest, Tim."

"Night," the boy yawned and returned to the room, closing the door in Jon's face. Jon got the feeling that the two of them didn't get along. Tim and... this Damian person. Him. What.

Before Jon could ponder further, Dick was already pushing him down the hall. A few minutes later, and through Dick's chattering, Jon was undressed from what Dick called "Robin."

"What's the matter, Dami?"

"Huh?"

"You're so quiet and haven't tutted at me once since you got back. That fall must've really messed you up."

"... I guess so," Jon mumbled. There was a mirror in this room too and he couldn't help but glance at it from the corner of his eye. Their eyes were the same color.

"Well, good night and rest up, Babywing," Dick said and gave the boy's hair a quick ruffle before turning and stepping out of the room.

Even after Dick left the room, Jon was at a loss for what to do. He couldn't even fathom what was going on. He was either:

  1. in someone else's body



or

  1. actually Damian, but that fall he had caused him to have dissociative identity disorder.



Jon wasn't sure which he preferred.

Not feeling particularly sleepy, Jon sat down at Damian's desk and pulled open the drawers. There were a few old fashion notebooks and various electronic gadgets in there. He picked up one of them and hit a button on the side.

"Yeowch!"

The gadget sprung out blades and sliced his finger. He dropped the object back into the drawer and pushed it aside with the notebooks. Jon gave his finger a quick lick before opening one of the notebooks.

He took one look at the first sentence and his face paled.

Old Tongue.

It just had to be.

Ugh, maybe he should go to sleep instead.

 

Jon had attempted to read what was in the notebook for the next half hour, but fell asleep at his desk instead. He awoke to loud knocking on his door.

"Master Damian?"

"Who--" Jon caught sight of himself in the mirror and jolted. Right. Right. He was still stuck in this nightmare. "I mean, yes?"

"I will be driving you to school in twenty minutes. Please get ready."

School!

Oh, man, he still had school? Jon looked around, the sun was bright outside and, with a frown, realized it wasn't red. If he didn't already know that something was really wrong here, he would've guessed that something was really wrong by now.

"What do I pack for school?" Jon mumbled as he searched around the room. Underneath the bed, he found a backpack with several notebooks inside. Looks like whoever Damian was, had packed his school supplies before Jon woke up confused. "...What do I wear for school?" Jon asked as he looked at his pajamas. He opened the closet to find it full of ancient looking clothes. Oh God, oh God, oh!

"Master Damian? Are you almost ready?"

"A-Almost," Jon stuttered as he pulled the most comfortable looking outfit he could find out of the closet. "Ready!" Jon grinned as he opened up his bedroom door. Alfred's eyes widened at the sight of him before falling back into that monotone expression.

"Master Damian, why are you dressed like that?"

"I... Uh... You don't like it?" he had pulled on a pair of black pants and a double zippered jacket. It was the closest thing he could find to the fashion he was used to.

"School starts in less than an hour," Alfred frowned as he stepped into the room, "May I?"

"Um, sure."

Alfred went to the closet and pulled a clothing set out, "Your uniform, Master Damian."

"Oh. Er, okay."

What a stuffy looking outfit.

"And won't you do something about your hair?"

"My hair?"

"Yes, you usually comb it back for school."

Jon made a face, "I'm okay with this." It was short enough for his liking. Combing it back would just feel extra unnatural.

 

Jon's eyes had been glued to the window of the limo as they drove through the streets of Gotham. His home city had taller buildings, but he had never seen anything like this before. Everything looked... so dated. But new. Well, he always liked history.

"We're here, Master Damian."

"Thanks, Alfred," Jon grinned as he got out of the limo.

Alfred gave him a look before nodding, "...I'll see you after school."

"See you then," Jon waved as the limo left.

"Good morning, Damian!" a girl piped up from Jon's left, "Now, I know you're just going to--"

"Good morning," Jon smiled back and the girl froze, stunned.

"...Olive!" the girl suddenly turned and yelled, running into the arms of a girl with white hair. (White? Must be dyed...) "Olive! Damian just returned my morning greeting! The world must be ending!"

What? What?

Did he do something wrong?

Giving a slight shrug, Jon decided not to stick around to cause any more end-of-the-worlds and find his way to his first class instead. After setting foot into the school building, Jon realized it.

He didn't know which one was his classroom.

With an awkward fumble, Jon unzipped his schoolbag and started searching for something, anything of a hint. Just as he pulled a folder out, the girl from before walked pass. "Damian, what are you doing? We have to get to the classroom."

"You're in my class!"

"...Yea, I am."

"Great," Jon grinned at her and the girl's cheeks flushed red. Oblivious to the fact, Jon hurried to walk beside her to their classroom.

 

The rest of the day was a struggle. Jon could barely read and understand what was written on the chalkboards (some of them had smart boards, but even those he had only seen in history class) and he generally couldn't answer any questions that were asked of him by the teacher(s). And for some reason, they really liked picking on him.

To top it all off, whenever he smiled or was polite to someone, they all looked at him like he grew another head. So when it came to the second half of the day, Jon had stopped paying attention. Instead, he started writing in the back of his notebook. It looked like Damian did scrap work back there. He considered writing in normal "English," but the reality might be that he would be stuck reading and writing in Old Tongue instead. He should practice it.

He stuck with phrases he knew, detailing how the day went. Finally, at the end, his mind went back to the boy he saw in the mirror.

His name was Damian Wayne.

He had a reputation of being cold, rude, and just downright unpleasant.

And at night, he dressed up in strange outfits and worked with a scary man in a black costume to do who knows what.

_Who are you?_

 

Speaking of strange outfits, Jon was dressed up as "Robin" again and preparing to patrol with "Batman." Jon didn't have a clue what any of this meant, but he felt like asking would give away that he wasn't Damian. These people were sharp. He didn't want to test what would happen if they knew.

However, now that Jon was staring at the receding forms of Batman and Nightwing as they flew through the air from building to building, he was having second thoughts.

"Robin?" Nightwing called from the roof two buildings away, "What are you still doing down there? Hurry up!" Batman had already disappeared from view. ...due to hiding or leaving them in his dust, Jon didn't know.

"I... uh..." Jon tried to stop shaking. He didn't know what to say! He couldn't possibly do what they were doing-- swinging from building to building at a height that would not only break his legs, but probably his neck too! "...I have a stomachache!" he finally stammered back.

Would they even let him go back on a stomachache?

Just as he was wondering that, Nightwing had landed in front of him again. "A stomachache?" he repeated.

"Oh... Uh," Jon quickly bent over and clutched his stomach, faking pained sounds, "Yea! Please! Please, _please_ let me go back home! I really don't feel good! I can't do ...uh... this patrol tonight!"

"Well, you certainly don't have to patrol tonight," Nightwing frowned, "But... I'm surprised you don't want to. Is it really that bad?"

"Yes!" he said, probably too enthusiastically, "It's bad! It's so bad I think I'm losing feeling in my legs!"

"What?" the white lenses on Nightwing's mask widened, "Oh my God. Stay here, I'll go let Batman know."

"T-Thanks," Jon smiled.

"...Robin?"

What? What did he do wrong?

Despite Jon not responding, Nightwing flew into the air to find Batman.

And approximately two seconds later, the building next to Jon exploded into flames.

What the fuck, Gotham.

 

It took less ten minutes for Batman to catch and tie up the perpetrator of the random act of arson thanks to the fact that he _wasn't_ a costumed freak of Gotham. Jon lost his voice around Batman and dissolved into a fit of stutters (which was helpful in convincing the two men that he was indeed in a lot of stomach pain) so Nightwing explained that Robin wasn't feeling well and he would drive him home in the Batmobile.

Thankfully, Batman agreed.

Jon almost sensed that he was relieved.

 

"What's wrong, Dami?" Nightwing asked as soon as Jon buckled himself in the passenger seat of the Batmobile. It took Jon a moment to remember that Dick Grayson called him "Dami" and "Babywing" at times.

"I... Uh, stomach hurts!" he faked a grimace.

Nightwing frowned, "Really?" He hit the gas and the car (overcompensated tank) sped off into the night, "If it's that bad, we should run some checks on you once we get back to the Batcave. It could be the flu, it could be something else."

"Uh..." damn, can they check that he didn't have a stomachache by doing that? He wished he paid more attention to biology class, "...Sure." They'll just find nothing and assume it was the taco he had for lunch, right?

When they got back to the cave, Nightwing drew several ounces of blood, swabbed his saliva and collected all sorts of samples from him. Jon wasn't sure how any of that was going to help determine if he was sick, but he wasn't going to question the expert. Afterwards, Nightwing put the samples into some machines and asked Jon to stay in his room while he went back out to find Batman.

Jon had no complaints.

Once he got back into the room, he started pulling parts of his Robin costume off and tossing it on the ground. He can take care of it tomorrow.

_Tomorrow._

Jon swallowed as he glanced at the mirror out of the corner of his eye. He still had no idea what was going on. He couldn't ask anyone anything. He didn't know if he would be stuck like this for the rest of his life.

"Maybe it'll all go back to normal tomorrow," he whispered as he sat down on his bed.

He was starting to feel sick to his stomach for real now. He had already woken up in the same mess this morning. Maybe second chance was the charm. With a sigh, he grabbed a marker off the desk and scribbled a pentagon with an S at the center of his palm.

His house emblem.

He missed home.

Putting the marker away, Jon walked to the light switch and switched it off. Then, he crawled into bed and pulled the blankets up, curling up into a ball and hoping for the best as he squeezed his eyes shut.


	3. Chapter 3

"Father!" Damian yelled as he raced down the stairs of the Batcave, "There is something wrong with me!" He rushed into the computer room of the cave. Bruce was already seated at his chair, looking at various screens with the Joker's face plastered over it. He turned around to face him and Damian hesitated. "...Where's Grayson?"

"Still out patrolling with Red Robin."

"Right," Dick wouldn't be back so soon. He was a little upset that Tim had taken his place tonight, though. But he quickly shook that thought out of his head and returned to the matter at hand, "Father! There's something wrong with me!"

"That's right."

"I-- Huh? You know?"

"Yes, Nightwing ran some DNA tests," Bruce responded as he pressed a few buttons on the keyboard. A graph appeared on the screen, "It appears that you came in contact with a fairly large amount of radiation recently. You're giving off quite a bit of decay, but you'll be back to normal soon."

"I..." Damian trailed off. That wasn't what was wrong with him, but _why_ was he irradiated?

Never mind that, he should tell Father that--

...That he had a strange dream about being in somebody else's body?

That he couldn't recall the past 24 hours?

That he's almost certain that _somebody else_ lived through his last 24 hours?

That... That... made him sound crazy. "...Tt," Damian bit his tongue, "I don't know where I could've possibly picked it up, Father. I wasn't near any sources of radiation recently."

"It could've been anything," Batman dismissed, "Get some rest, Damian. You'll be back on patrols tomorrow night."

"Of course," Damian gave a quick nod and turned to head upstairs.

 

Jon stared at his desk screen as he tried to comprehend what was going on. He had a dream about being someone named Damian Wayne. And today, he found a message in his journal written by Damian Wayne.

_Could it have not been a dream?_

And if it wasn't... then what happened? Did he switch bodies with the other boy? The very notion was insane! That sort of thing only happened in books. Jon chuckled nervously, glad that no one else was in the room to see the face he was making.

The notion was insane, but if that wasn't the case, he would be the insane one.

Still, Jon was curious as to what was written in the journal. He guessed it was an entry about what Damian did during the day in his body.

Twenty minutes later, other students piled in for the start of class and Jon hurried to minimize the program. He had only managed to translate through half of it and he wanted to pay attention to class.

 

After school was over, Jon went to visit his uncle again. It was the usual jokes with the security and when he arrived at his uncle's lab, he gave him a big hug. To his surprise, his aunt was there as well.

"Aunty Lara!" Jon greeted, he went over and gave her a gentle hug. No flying into her arms like he did to Uncle Jor. He had to be careful, Aunty Lara's stomach was swollen with a baby that was due any week now.

"Hello, Jon!" she gave him a brief hug before sitting back down on her stool in the corner of the lab, "How was school?"

"It was good!" Jon smiled, "I learned about the cloning in history class today!"

"Did you?" Lara smiled, "Tell me about it, what did you learn?"

"Um," Jon paused to gather his thoughts, just to make sure he wouldn't say the wrong thing, "We started developing techniques for preserving DNA and storing memories in the strands a few centuries ago. Everything is stored in the artificial wombs until they are chosen for a couple who wants a child." Jon blinked, a realization dawning on him, "Ah, come to think of it! Is that what you did? Talk with the officials to choose who to have as your child?"

"Well," Lara hesitated, "...It's not that simple between me and your uncle."

"Huh?"

Lara looked to her husband for help explaining. Jor simply shook his head and pretended to be busy searching organizing the shelves. "I'll get you later, Jor..."

"Oh!" Jon exclaimed, "By the way! What about me?"

"What?" Lara turned her attention back to her nephew.

"What about me?" Jon repeated, "I should have the memory of someone else, too, right?"

"Oh, well, that's..." Lara mumbled.

"So, who am I?"

Lara frowned and reached out, placing her hand on Jon's cheek, "Jon. I'll tell you more about this when you're older, okay? You don't have to think about this now."

"...Okay?" it was just a question. It wasn't like Jon wanted an answer right then and there. Sure, it would've been nice to get the answer, but he wouldn't push for it.

"Right, now that the discussion on where babies come from is over, Jon, why don't you come take a look at what I'm going to be doing here..."

"Okay, Uncle Jor!" conversation about babies? That wasn't quite what he was asking, but...

After a few minutes of watching and helping his uncle dice up samples of rocks and minerals, Jon decided to ask, "Uncle Jor, have you ever heard of people switching bodies?"

"Switching bodies? Like in fiction?"

Jon's cheeks flared up, "N-No, um, I was wondering if anyone's done it... in real life science."

Jor put the tweezers and pocket knife down, "I think in the past, some mad scientists have done it."

"Really? How?"

"It was on some animals. They swapped the brains. They've tried many times and there were only rumors of success. No concrete evidence of any animals surviving such a transplant."

"...Oh," in that case, it might be safe to say that whatever was happening to Jon was not scientific. Or, at the least, not a known or documented scientific fact.

 

For the next three days, nothing happened to Jon and Damian. In fact, both of them were beginning to forget that it had happened at all. Both of their lives were so busy, strange dreams were not things that they kept in their minds.

However, each time Damian pulled out his notebook and each time Jon opened his journal application in Old Tongue class, they would both remember that _something_ had happened. Something inexplicable.

And then it happened again.

 

Damian woke up staring at a ceiling that was familiar, but not his own. "No. No. No way, not again," he sat up with a start and dashed to the closet, kicking his pinky toe into various objects on the ground along the way.

Yep.

Dammit.

He was "Jon" again.

"What is going on?!" he yelled and, once again, his bedroom door burst open and Lora poked her head in.

"Jon?"

"I am _not_ Jon!" Damian said in exasperation as he turned to face his "sister." Lora gave him a concerned look and Damian sighed, "Tt. It was a joke."

"...Okay," Lora said as she left his room, "Get ready, we're leaving in twenty."

"Tt."

This time, Damian had no trouble picking out the right uniform. He styled his hair comfortably, but not without cursing at the length of it while in the bathroom. Lora looked confused, but didn't say anything this time. She chatted with him lightly as they walked to school and Damian nodded his head without paying any attention.

Was this going to be a trend? ...These dreams or body swaps or whatever they were! He would have to tell Father about them. Batman would not take this kindly. If he told his father about this, he foresaw a lot of psychoanalytical tests, DNA tests, and being chained up for some nights in his near future. Especially because he didn't know who this "Jon" person really was.

It would be a bit comforting if he knew--

"Stop!" Lora screamed and jerked Damian out of his thoughts.

They were right outside their school building now, a number of other students were loitering outside the entrance. Most of them took one look at what was happening and turned away, scurrying about to get as far as possible.

"Oh, sweetie, I love it when girls play hard to get," the boy holding Lora by the wrist pulled her closer and she let out a grunt as she tried to hold her ground. She couldn't and he laughed. He was a lot bigger than the majority of the students and surrounded by three other boys who were just slightly smaller.

Jon narrowed his eyes and stalked closer. He made next to no sound as he snuck up behind the boy. However, Lora had a perfect view of him. "Jon, no! Stay back!" she yelled and everyone turned to face Damian.

"Tt."

"Who's this?"

"Her younger brother, Rol," one of the other boys answered him, "He took a beating for the other kid last week, remember?"

"Oh, that pathetic loser," Rol laughed and let go of Lora, "What, you volunteering?"

"If I played the game, I would be crowned victor on the first day," Damian snorted.

"What? What are you saying?"

"I'm saying your threats are boring me," Damian smirked up at Rol.

"Jon! Jon, stop!" Lora said as she tried to get around to Damian's side, but one of the other boys pulled her back. Damian narrowed his eyes.

"Don't touch her."

"You don't get to make any demands here!" Rol roared as he raised his fists up and moved to strike Damian. Damian swiveled around and easily dodged it. He kicked his foot out and gave a light tap to the back of Rol's knee--

"Huh?"

Rol crashed onto the ground with a loud smack and everyone stared at them with wide eyes. The students who had been hurrying to get away turned to face them, holding their breath and debating on whether or not to stay and watch.

"That all you got?" Damian smirked, "For someone making such a big fuss, I was expecting a little more."

"RAAAGGGHHH!" Rol yelled as he leapt back up and moved in to hit Damian. They were easy to dodge, until he saw the other boys surround him. They were still green, but Damian realized they were performing a tactical maneuver. And they had successfully distracted him--

"Ughh!" one of Rol's fists connected with Damian's face and he went flying against the school gate. Wow, that punch packs a wallop! Either that, or this body was just that weak. Damian could feel his face bruising up already.

Rol reached out to grab him by the shirt collar and Damian ducked underneath just to see a leg from one of the other boys coming towards his face. He quickly held up his arms to block it. It connected and Damian thought he heard a crack. That asshole! He was totally intending to break his jaw with that kick! They may be school bullies, but this had gone on long enough.

"Tt," he could try and go on the offensive for once, but Damian wasn't sure this body could handle it. Without a doubt, it wasn't trained from nightly patrols like his. There was another barrage of kicks and punches coming from the other boys and given how much his arms were stinging, there might even be something fractured.

It was do or die.

Damian pulled himself up using the gate and kicked the other boy square in the jaw. He'll deal with Rol after all his lackies were taken out. That first boy was out for the count, Damian was sure of it. Even with Jon's body, he should've put enough force to bring him down.

For a split second, everyone froze in shock of what just happened and Damian took advantage of that to run up to the other two boys and use a knifehand strike against the back of their necks. They both dropped to the ground. He didn't need excessive force for _that_.

"You're the last one left," Damian stated just as Rol let out another yell.

By now, the other students had gathered around windows to watch and teachers had come running to break up the fight. "Stop it! Rol! And... uh... Just stop!"

"No! He attacked me!" Rol yelled, "My uncle is going to hear about this! After I crush his skull!" Rol ran forward and grabbed Damian in a tackle.

"Oof," Damian grunted as he landed on his back. Rol was sitting on him and had his fists raised to give him a pummeling. Damian immediately brought his hands up again to block the blows, but each one of them _hurt_. They were already screaming in pain earlier and he wasn't sure how much more this body could take.

"You little shit!" Rol yelled repeatedly, "I'm going to kill you! Kill you!"

"Tt. Then you'll have to do better than this," Damian removed one of his arms from the block and made a thumbstrike fist. Then, he jabbed his fist into Rol's side and the other boy let out a howl of pain before falling over and clutching his side.

"He knifed me! He knifed me!" he yelled as the teachers ran over to separate the two.

"It's fine, it's fine, we'll bring you to the nurses' office," the teacher said as they half pulled, half carried Rol away.

"Jon!" Lora yelled as she ran over to give her brother a hug, "I thought you were going to die! They were going to call the General over! ...Then it might've really been the end."

"They did," a voice said as a hovercraft blocked out the sunlight. It landed and a tall man walked out. He had on militaristic clothing and Damian guessed that this must be the General.

"G-General Zod," Lora stammered out as she stood up straight. She pulled at Damian until he got off the floor. Damian bit back a hiss of pain and glared up at Zod.

"What happened here?" he asked the remaining teachers who didn't leave to rush Rol to the nurse.

"There was a fight," Damian recognized the man who answered to be Lora's teacher.

"Between..."

Lora's teacher swallowed. He didn't want to turn Damian in for having fought with Rol, but someone would've had to be the scapegoat regardless. The nephew of General Zod was injured and beaten in a fight. Someone will have to pay.

Damian narrowed his eyes and held his head up. His body was aching, but he wasn't going to slouch and look weak for this. He had been in much more pain from nightly patrol beat ups.

"It was me," Damian declared and stalked up to Zod, "I fought against Rol." He looked up at Zod, stared him in the eye. He wasn't going to back down from this. He wasn't weak or scared. And if he was in his own body, Damian would've kept fighting Rol and fought this man as well.

"What's your name?" Zod's voice was barely short of a growl.

"Da..." he gave a glance at Lora and thought better of his answer, "... Jon."

"Of what house?"

Damian opened his mouth, but didn't say anything. Of what house?? What was his house? What did Lora first call him that time? What did his teacher read off the attendance sheet last time? He gave another sideways glance at Lora for help. Lora stared back for a brief moment before she answered.

"E-El. We're from the House of El."

"House of El?" a smile cracked on Zod's lips and Damian narrowed his eyes, fought the instinct that wanted to start a fight. "The same as Jor-El?"

"H-He is our uncle," Lora nodded.

"Interesting. I didn't know you were in the same school. I will have a word with your Uncle later," he turned to Lora's teacher, "Where is my nephew? It's time I gave him a lesson in self control."

As soon as he entered the school, the tension in the air evaporated. There was a soft chatter amongst the students that had been watching and the remaining teachers began trying to wake Rol's lackeys.

"Jon. Jon!" Lora cried as she hugged her brother, "What just happened? Oh no! What will he say to Uncle Jor? ...And what about our parents. ...My God, how did you do all of that?"

Damian, squished into her chest, was getting irritable. His body was sore and she wasn't making it better. To make it even worse than that, she was asking too many questions! "Tt. Lora! Stop and let me go! I can't breathe!"

"Oh, right. Sorry, Jon," she released him and Damian let out a sigh, rubbing his temples.

"We should get you to the nurse," Lora offered.

"Aren't both Rol and the General up there?"

"Oh, right."

"Can we go home?"

"I..." she looked up at her teacher, who was standing a few feet away.

"You're free to go home for today," he said, "It seems you won't have to deal with General Zod today. ...I wish your family well."

"...Thank you," Lora mumbled, but her tone did not sound thankful at all. It was completely hopeless.

 

Jon held the mirror in his hands and stared at it. Maybe if he stared at it enough, he'll go back to normal. He'll stop looking like this boy and start looking like himself again. Oh, and maybe the sun will go back to being red instead of yellow.

"Master Damian, time for school," Alfred said as he knocked on the door to his room.

"Y-Yes, coming!" Jon said. He riffled through the closet until he found his uniform again. Holding back a sigh, he made a nasty face instead as he got into the stuffy outfit.

"Master Damian?" Alfred raised an eyebrow as Jon walked out of his room, "...Your hair."

"I, uh, I'm trying something different today?" Jon laughed nervously.

"...Master Damian?" Alfred repeated, this time with furrowed eyebrows. Jon gulped. He still had no idea how to act as Damian. Perhaps he should be colder? More sure of himself?? Oh, man, easier said than done! "By the way, Master Timothy will be joining us today as well."

"Master Timothy?"

"...Yes. He is in the car already."

"Okay?"

Was he missing something here?

As it turned out, Timothy was the boy whose room he entered last time. When Jon left the manor and climbed into the shiny car (it doesn't fly, Jon remembered with some disappointment), Timothy was already sitting in the backseat. Jon joined him and Alfred started the car. Timothy was reading on an i-pad. After the first light, he started typing furiously into it.

Other than that, the ride was silent.

After the third light, Jon couldn't take the heavy atmosphere anymore.

"W-What are you typing?" Jon cracked a nervous smile at Timothy.

"Huh?"

"Timothy," he got the name right, he hoped, "Are you messaging someone?"

"... Huh??!" Timothy's eyes widened and then narrowed at Jon, " _What_ did you just call me?"

"U-Uh, ah," Jon stammered, "T-Timothy! That's your name, r-right?"

Before either one of them could say another word, Alfred hit the brakes and unlocked the doors, "We're here, Master Damian."

"T-Thanks for the ride!" Jon said quickly and reached to unlock the door. Before he could escape, however, Timothy had reached over and pulled the door close.

"Hold on," he leaned in close to Jon's face and Jon froze, caught between shoving Timothy off and attempting to make a mad dash out of the car. "Who are you?"

Jon's eyes widened, was this the end? "Damian Wayne!" he gasped, "I'm Damian Wayne! What are you doing?!"

Timothy suddenly broke into a smirk and moved away, "Scaring you. Also, please don't call me _Timothy_ again. ...That was weird."

Jon quickly opened the door and got out of the car, just in case Timothy tried to trap him again, "Then... What do you want me to call you?"

"Hm?" Timothy looked up from his i-pad again, "Like you usually do. ...But if you suddenly want to call me Tim, I don't mind." Tim smiled at him.

"Oh..." Jon felt his face heat up, "Okay. ...Tim." Jon gave him a lopsided grin and closed the car door. He waved goodbye through the tinted windows and the car drove off. He grinned as he walked through the gates of Gotham Academy, greeting nearly everyone he saw.

"Olive! Damian's acting strange again! You don't think he's possessed by a spirit, do you?"

"I've never heard of possessions that improve a person's attitude."

 

Later that evening, Jon found Tim sitting in the living room of the manor, typing away at his i-pad again. "Tim!" Jon greeted and Tim looked up at him, stunned, for a brief moment.

"Oh, hello, Damian," Tim replied in a huff, "Are you playing a prank on me again?"

"...? No?" Jon replied as he sat down on the couch next to Tim, "So, what are you writing?"

Tim raised an eyebrow, seemingly slightly uncomfortable with how close Jon was, "A program. I wanted to beef up the security at Wayne Tower a bit. Why? Are you suddenly interested in computer programs now?"

Jon blinked. Computer programs? What were those? "...Yea!" it was always nice to learn something new!

Tim gave him a smile, accompanied with a confused look. "Well, alright. Okay, the language I'm using right now is..."

 

"Tim. Damian," Bruce said as he walked into the living room.

"Hey, Bruce," Tim returned and Jon tried to figure out if he had met Bruce before.

"Get ready."

Tim nodded as he stood up from the couch and started following Bruce out of the room. When he saw that Jon wasn't following, he turned and gave Jon a small pat on the shoulder, "C'mon. We have patrol tonight."

"O-Oh? We do?" why did it seem like Damian was on patrol every night?

Jon put on the Robin costume again, staring into the mirror as he held the last piece in his hands-- his mask. He didn't really get it. What were these people trying to do? And-- he swallowed-- he probably couldn't get out of doing it tonight. How many days has it been since he managed to fool them by faking a stomachache?

"Robin, are you ready?" Tim asked as he approached Jon. Jon turned to see Tim dressed in a red costume with a similar domino mask on his face.

_The costume fits him well_ , Jon thought.

"A-Almost," Jon stammered as he shook the thought from his head and stuck the mask to his face. He looked up and Tim let out a chuckle before reaching over and readjusting Jon's mask for him.

"It's a bit tilted."

"T... Thank you," Jon squeaked. He could feel his face heating up again.

Tim furrowed his eyebrows, the domino mask did nothing to hide the confusion on his face. "Damian?" he asked.

"Ready to go?" Batman's voice came from behind Jon and it was everything for him to _not_ flinch.

"Yes," Tim answered.

"Y-Yes," Jon stuttered.

 

Jon squeezed his eyes shut as he zipped up a building. His feet tapped against the walls and as he neared the end of the grappling hook, his arm shot out and flipped himself over the ledge and onto the roof. Jon let out a gasp as he landed and opened his eyes. Thankfully, both Batman and Red Robin were talking softly on the other side of the roof and couldn't see him. They were discussing and pointing at something in the distance.

_How did I do that?!_

Jon's lips curled up into a smile. He didn't know why or how he was able to do this, but he _could_ do this. He quickly dashed up to Red Robin's side, all the terror refilled with excitement. "Where are we going? What are we doing tonight?" he exclaimed.

"Nice to see you so excited, Robin," Red Robin smirked at him.

"We'll be starting at the Bell Tower," Batman growled out and Jon felt himself shrink a little. "And hope that nothing happens tonight--" he didn't even finish the sentence as an alarm ripped through the air.

"I think that's the museum," Red Robin said, tapping away at his smart watch. There was only the soft swish of fabric and Batman was gone, already flying through the air. "Let's go, Robin."

"Right!"

 

 

The next day, back in his own body, he found a note on his desk. It was written in choppy "English," rather than Old Tongue. "Huh? Did he learn how to write already?" this Damian was incredibly quick...

 

 

Damian awoke in his own room and found it a mess again. "Tt," he let out a low growl as he pushed the covers off and made his way to his desk, thankfully without hitting pinky toes on anything this time. His notebook was already opened to the back, another messy message written for him.

 

 

Immediately after reading the messages left for each other, both boys yelled, "You did _what_?!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yea, I should mention that this fic will also differ from the movie on a number of details ;)
> 
> I think the toughest part of writing this story is to make up reasons for why the Batfamily _don't_ suspect something was wrong with Jon-in-Damian's-body. I think they would easily pick it up if Jon wasn't careful.


	4. Chapter 4

"Good morning, Damian--" Tim greeted cheerfully, but of course, before he could finish the greeting, a barrage of Batarangs came flying his way. He immediately pulled his schoolbag full of textbooks up to his face and blocked the majority of them. Only one that had gone slightly astray from Damian's aim managed to clip his shoulder, causing a rip in his jacket.

Thank God for good reflexes.

"Damian!" Tim yelled as he lowered the book bag to see what was coming next. "GAAAHH!" Tim yelled as he ducked Damian's short sword. "What the hell?! Little hellspawn!"

"Stand still, Drake!" Damian yelled as he started chasing Tim down the halls of the manor.

"Stop it, what the hell?! You were so nice yesterday!"

"Do not remind me!"

In the library, Bruce looked up from documents he had recently gotten from Gordon on a case and stared at the doorway. Several Batarangs lodged itself on the floor, just missing Tim as he zoomed past.

Then, Damian swung by on a line and landed a kick on Tim.

"Oww! What the hell?! Did you have to hit me on the head! That's a rule!"

"Rules are meant to be broken!"

The squabbling continued and Bruce took a sip of his morning coffee, "They're lively today."

"Perhaps they had a good night's sleep."

"As a vigilante?"

"No one works as hard as you, Master Bruce."

"BRUUUUCEE!" Tim yelled as he finally burst into the room with Damian clinging onto his back, trying to pull him down to a chokehold. Unfortunately, he just didn't have the weight to do it.

"Good morning, Master Timothy."

"...Good morning, Tim," Bruce hesitated before adding, "Is that a koala on your back?"

"I wish!" Tim yelled as he struggled to pull Damian off, "Ouch! Stop biting me! I don't know why he's attacking me extra hard this morning! He was so nice yesterday, right, Alfr-- OW!" Damian chomped down on Tim's hand before letting go.

"Damian, what are you doing?" Bruce lowered his voice until it was almost Batman level, but not quite. Just a stern fatherly sentiment.

"Father! I--" Damian's face turned red. He really had no excuse. He was simply angry that Jon had acted so out of character around Tim yesterday. And he was punishing Tim for it. Because somebody had to take the blame. "...I..."

"Stop picking on Tim," Bruce replied and returned to reading his documents.

"I--"

"Damian."

"Yes, Father," Damian replied and snapped his head back to glare up at Tim.

"You heard him," Tim snorted back. Damian stomped his foot at where Tim's left foot used to be. "Missed me," the older boy sneered.

"DRAKE--" Damian was cut short as he was lifted into the air, "Who--" he immediately reached for his secret stash of Batarangs, but was sorely reminded that he had just used them all on Tim.

"Hey! How's my favorite Robin doing?" Dick said and Damian stopped struggling. Tim gave Dick a look and Dick returned a sheepish smile, "You're my favorite _Red_ Robin."

Tim rolled his eyes and turned to leave the library.

"G-Grayson!" his voice cracked with both excitement and embarrassment, "Unhand me!"

"Haha," Dick laughed as he put Damian down, "Only if you promise to stop chasing Tim around the house."

"He started it!"

"Did he?"

"..." no, he didn't.

Dick ruffled Damian's hair, "I'll go get ice cream with you later, okay?"

"Banana split!"

"Uh... as long as you brush your teeth, okay? Now go make up with Tim."

Damian made a face, but stalked out of the room to look for Tim.

"Thanks for coming by, Dick."

"Not at all," Dick responded as he pulled a chair up to sit across from Bruce, "I come by every other week anyways."

"I've gotten my hands on a good amount of information about her."

"From who?" Dick asked as he picked up a sheet.

"A variety of sources."

Of course.

"Are you sure this is a good idea? Aren't you over reacting?"

"We know nothing about her," there was a slight growl in his voice, like he was just barely keeping the Batman out, "I think I'm reacting just the right amount."

Dick nodded and looked down at the sheet in his hand. A blurry picture was centered above a short summary of where the photo came from and what happened that day. It was a lucky shot of a blue figure against the cloud, just enough to make out a red 'S' on the figure's chest.

The press gave her the name, "Supergirl."

 

 

 Jon stared at the note Damian left him. He had been so excited and desperate to find out what the other boy did in his body for the past 24 hours that he didn't even notice his left arm being in a cast until he read the sentence in the note.

Damian got into a fight with Rol at school and _won_. Then even talked with General Zod. He didn't want to think of the repercussions of that. _Mom and Dad, they'll--_ several knocks on his door broke him out of his thoughts, "Jon!" Lora yelled, "Are you ready for school?"

"Um!" Jon crumbled the paper in his hands, "I-I'm not feeling well! I won't go to school today!"

Lora was silent for a moment on the other side before agreeing, "Okay, take the day off. But, you have to go to school tomorrow. You can't miss too many days!"

"Right, of course," Jon said with a sigh of relief as he looked down at the note again. He reread the few paragraphs written in simple "English" and sighed again, this time in despair.

"...Is everything alright, Jon?" his sister mumbled outside the door. It was soft and muffled and Jon almost missed it.

"O-Of course!"

"Of course," Lora repeated, "But... you never fought back against Rol before." Lora knew that Jon would occasionally take a punch or three for the other kids Rol bullied and she was proud of Jon for that, but she had never seen him fight like that before, "...Where'd you even learn to fight like that?"

Jon opened his mouth to answer, but closed it again when he couldn't find a good excuse. He was glad Lora couldn't see him. The fear and obvious not-truth he was telling was written on his face. "Lucky... shots... I guess?" he laughed, hoping it would take the edge off things.

"Jon, I hope you do know how fake that sounds," Lora said and Jon heard her stomp down the hall and out into the kitchen. He heard her heat up breakfast, pack it to eat at school, and leave the apartment.

The apartment droned with silence and Jon pulled the covers over his head. He squeezed his eyes shut and almost wished that he could swap into Damian's body. Let Damian deal with this. He started this mess, right?! He can fix it! He knew how to fight and take on bullies. Jon couldn't do it himself.

 

 

After mumbling a forced apology to Tim, who took any apology over no apology, Damian was beating a punching bag in the training room. He had been lifting weights earlier, but lifting didn't take any of his frustration out. "Stupid... Jon!" he grumbled between punches, "What... the... hell... were... you... THINKING?!" he yelled as he punched the bag as hard as he could, snapping the thin chain that had attached it to the ceiling.

"Who's Jon?" Dick's voice came from the doorway and Damian bit down a gasp. He had been so focused on punching the punching bag that he hadn't heard Dick enter the room.

"No one!" Damian quickly responded, "Anyways, you're done talking with Father?"

"Yup, ready for our ice cream date?" Dick winked.

"Haha... date?" Damian grimaced and bit down a laugh, "Please, that'll work on your fangirls, but not me, Grayson." He took a step forward and saw Dick's expression change into shock.

"Dami, watch your step--"

"Huh--" Damian saw the dumbbell too late, his foot got caught in it and the ground was coming up quickly. "Ouch!" this wasn't too bad, it wasn't a big fall--

 

 

Damian sat up in darkness. Not a natural, lightless darkness. He waved his hand in front of his face and saw his hand perfectly. "Am I dreaming?" he muttered to himself. Damian looked left and right, listened for the sound of anything at all, before standing up--

"Oof!" a weight barreled itself onto him, knocking him back onto the "ground." Damian let out a grunt, "What gives?" he yelled.

"Huh? What?" the other boy sat up and stared down at him. Damian recognized him immediately.

"Jon?!"

"Damian?!"

For a moment, the two of them stared at each other in shock. The moment over, Damian yelled, "Get off me!" and shoved Jon off. He stood up and brushed imaginary dust off himself.

"What the? How are we talking with each other like this?" Jon asked as he looked around, "Where are we?"

"I don't know, but I'm going to find out and when I find the person behind this, I'm going to beat them into a bloody mess and make sure they never walk again," Damian growled out the threat. With a huff, he turned and started walking in a direction. A few steps in, he twisted around and yelled, "Don't follow me!" He had only got a few steps away when he heard the sound of footsteps following him, "What did I say, Jon?! ...!" Damian did his best to bite back his surprise. He hadn't realized it, but Jon was a good head taller than him. While he didn't want to admit it, that ticked him off.

"I didn't want to sit alone in here!" Jon protested, "Come on, let's just explore together!"

"No, get out of my sight. I hate you," Damian grumbled and Jon flinched.

"That's uncalled for!"

"You ruined my life!"

"I've been in your life for two days!"

"Two _very_ intrusive days!"

"You beat up a kid at school in my body!"

"Look at you!" Damian stalked up and pulled the front of Jon's shirt up, "Just looking at your scrawny body pisses me off! How can you let such an oaf push you around?!"

Jon shoved Damian back and pulled his shirt down. To his disappointment, he didn't move the shorter boy very far, "You don't know anything about my life! You can't just waltz in and lecture me about how I'm living!"

"I made the best out of your shitty situation, you should thank me for it."

"My situation is shitty?" Jon repeated, "Seriously? You run around with a man dressed as a bat in the middle of the night and _my_ situation with a bully is shitty?!" It was true that having a class bully sucked big time and Damian would probably never let himself wind up in that situation, but running around in costumes fighting crime had to be the height of egotism and a number of other personality problems... As Jon was witnessing right now.

"Shut up," Damian had no counter for that.

"Why should I? Just so I can hear you badmouth my life while-- Ow!" Jon didn't even see the punch coming. In the midst of verbally retaliating against Damian's argument, he had forgotten just how well trained Damian was. A punch right in the jaw reminded him of how _not_ well trained he was. "You jerk!" Jon punched back, hitting empty air as Damian side stepped and slammed his elbow down onto Jon's back.

"Raaaghh!" Jon pushed himself up and tried to throw another punch at Damian, which the other boy easily caught and twisted Jon's arm around his back, before shoving him down with a knee against his back.

"Stay down!" Damian yelled, and just before Jon hit the "ground" again, the entire scenery changed. The black nothingness turned into the Wayne Manor training room, neat and clean, just the way Damian would find it in the morning. The two of them were within the padded boxing ring where Damian normally sparred with his brothers. "Wha--" Damian loosened his grip on Jon and the other boy took this chance to spring free and shove Damian down.

"Gotcha!" Jon yelled as he pinned both of Damian's wrists down.

"Like hell you do," Damian rolled his eyes. He could break free of this easily and he wasn't sure why Jon had such a smug grin on his face, "Shouldn't you be more concerned with the fact that the entire place _changed_?"

Jon shrugged sheepishly and let go, sitting up straight, "Not really, this is a dream, right?"

"What makes you say that?"

"I remember pulling the covers up and wishing to fall asleep before I got here. And besides," Jon leaned in close, "There's no way we could possibly be meeting in person."

"Dream or not, we're meeting right now," Damian pointed out. He refused to voice it, but he agreed with Jon's theory. After all, if this was a dream, it made sense that the training room materialized the moment he started fighting with Jon. "Just," he gave Jon a shove, "Get off me!" Ugh, he had to tell him that _twice_ within the last twenty minutes!

"Oh, oops!" Jon quickly scrambled off and Damian sat up to face him.

"Well, if this is just a dream then..." Damian trailed off and concentrated, staring slightly downward.

"What are you-- woah!" Jon jumped and lost his balance on the creature they were sitting on and fell off, "AHHHH!!" The wind rushed by him as he stared at an orange-yellow sky. To his left, the sun was setting and below, a shiny orange ocean reflecting the colors of the sky. There was a whoosh of air and Jon landed on the furry back of the creature again, the wind rushing against his face as the creature flew at high speed across the sky.

"You're right," Damian, who was sitting on the creature's neck, turned slightly to give Jon a grin. Jon froze, wide eyed. "This _is_ a dream!"

"O-Okay! I agree! This is a dream! Now bring us down!" no sooner did he say that, both boys fell downward and landed in a bed with fluffy pillows and soft blankets. "Oof," Jon pushed the covers off and found himself in his room again, "Damian?"

"Right here. Get _off_ me!" Jon had landed on top of Damian again, who was laying on his stomach on the bed. Third time! "Tt. You are such a party pooper," Damian grumbled once Jon was off, "I was enjoying that ride."

"I know," Jon grumbled, "But I wasn't."

"Party. Pooper," Damian repeated for emphasis as he sat up and looked out the window. The sun was still setting, it looked like Jon had that idea stuck in his head after their short flight above the ocean. It was a red sunset, like Damian remembered from his first day in Jon's body. _...Wasn't it a sunrise_ , he thought to himself and it dawned on him that he really knew nothing about this world, its history, or Jon. Damian was thinking to himself on how to word everything when Jon spoke up.

"Hey, Damian," he mumbled, ears pink with embarrassment, "I think we got off on the wrong foot, but I think we're going to have to work together whether we like it or not." He gave Damian a somewhat forced smile and held out his hand, "What do you say?" He didn't like the idea of working together with Damian, but he did want to patch things up.

"Tt," Damian looked annoyed, but in truth he was relieved that Jon was willing to work together, "I'd like to get to the bottom of this and get my life back on track, too." He shook Jon's hand and did his best to look nonchalant about it. "If this keeps happening, we're going to have to make a few ground rules for when we switch bodies. Your sister isn't clueless and my family," he snorted, "will tie you up and interrogate you as bad cop, worse cop the moment they find something wrong with me."

"I don't doubt that."

"So here are some rules about being me. First of all, stop talking to Drake."

"Huh?"

Damian narrowed his eyes, "Drake. My third older brother."

"How many brothers do you have?"

"Three," Damian crossed his arms, but he wasn't fooling Jon, not based on the grin Jon had on his face, "I wish they weren't, though," he said quickly, "I also have a sister. I'm okay with her being my sister."

"You have such a large family. It sounds fun."

"It's not... bad," Damian admitted, surprising himself. He wasn't planning to be so honest to Jon. (He was going to answer truthfully, but he didn't plan on answering so much about himself.)

"So... Drake," Jon got back on topic. He couldn't remember talking to anyone named Drake when he swapped bodies with Damian, "I don't remember meeting anyone named Drake."

Damian scowled, "Timothy Drake, you went on patrol with him and Batman last night."

"Oh, Tim!"

Damian's expression soured even further, "You sound way too excited about him."

"I... I am not. He's just a nice person. Wait, isn't your last name Wayne? Is he Timothy Drake Wayne?"

"He's adopted," Damian answered without hesitation, "Tt. Anyways, if you're talking with him, that'll be a sure sign that something's wrong with me."

Jon pouted, "Okay."

"Second rule, you have to start training."

"...Huh?"

Damian snapped his fingers and Jon's room disappeared, replaced by the training room again, "If you're going to be in my body, you're not allowed to act like a pussy in front of everyone!" His voice grew louder as the sentence continued and Damian was having a hard time keeping his anger at bay, "I am Robin! You can't embarrass me with your cowardly antics!"

"Cowardly?!"

"So from this moment on, your training starts!" Damian got into a martial arts pose and Jon quickly held his hands up.

"H-Hold up! You gave your rules, but what about me?! I have some rules, too!"

"I'm not done with my rules, either."

"Then don't get ready to attack me!"

Damian dropped to a relaxed position, "Tt. Rule three, don't smile so much at school."

Jon blinked, "Why not? You look nice when you smile." Damian paused, wondering if he heard that wrong. He stared up at Jon, who took a moment to process what he said before he covered his mouth. Realizing that he heard Jon correctly, Damian felt his face heat up just as Jon's face turned bright red. "T-That came out wrong!" Jon stammered.

"I...Um... Yea," Damian cleared his throat, "Your rules!"

"Um... Just be nice to people, okay?! And don't pick fights with Rol-Zod!"

"So I should just be a punching bag?" Damian made a disgusted face, "At the very least, I can help you stand up for yourself."

"He's related to General Zod. We can't go up against him," Jon looked down, "...I can't go up against him."

Damian crossed his arms, "But I did, as you. Didn't you read what I wrote for you? I fought him. General Zod talked with me and said he'll talk with your uncle."

"Oh, God," Jon buried his face in his hands.

"What? I sensed that he wasn't a good person, but he didn't lay a hand on you."

"He might if you beat up Rol a second time..." Jon mumbled, "...And also my..."

"If that's the case, then it's even more important that I teach you how to fight!" Damian was set on this idea, "Just remember to perform these exercises at least once a day when you're awake. You may not have any decent sparring partner, but you need to get your muscle mass up! Look at how scrawny you are!" He picked up Jon's upper arm and pulled at his skin to prove his point.

"Alright, alright! I get it! No need keep saying that! Yeesh..."

"Good," Damian gave Jon a satisfied smirk, "Oh, one more thing. We've already been leaving each other notes, but we should try to be as detailed as possible about what we do in each other's body each time we swap. ...I don't want to get caught off guard by my family."

"That's not hard, especially if I do it in 'English.'"

Damian narrowed his eyes, "Is that the writing system you have right now?"

"Um, yea," Jon was not ready for Damian's sudden aggression.

"I have one more rule! You need to learn English! Old Tongue, whatever you call it! Your grammar is horrendous!"

"What?! But I'm just not good at it, there's nothing I can do about that!"

"Of course there is! I'm going to start writing everything in 'Old Tongue' and you will, too!"

"That's just absolutely tyrannical!"

"It's for your own good!"

"You mean your good! Why don't you just write in 'English' instead? You can practice that!"

"What use do I have for a language no one on Earth uses?! And besides, I'm learning quite rapidly anyways!"

Jon, who was about to retort, perked up, "Earth?"

"Hm?"

"What's Earth?"

While Damian never caught the name of the place Jon was from, he had assumed it must be some hidden place on Earth or a different timeline. It appears that wasn't the case. "Earth, that's the planet I'm--"

"On."

Damian woke up under covers. He quickly pulled them back and found himself in Jon's room. "Shit," he mumbled, "Just when I was finally getting some answers." Whatever was causing them to switch bodies and meet in dreams weren't going to give them answers easily, were they? Damian was going to have to do some digging around. He looked out the window. The midday sun was bright red, but it was not in the sunrise position he had seen it in the past few times he was in Jon's body. He didn't hear Lora moving about in the hallway, either.

"Skipped school?" he deduced. "What a coward," he said as he got out of bed. Time for the son of the greatest detective on Earth to do some investigating.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, it's been a long while (oops, haha ;;; ), but I did want to finish my stories so I can move on and write new ones. 
> 
> Anyways... this chapter ended up being dialogue-y and diverging from the movie. I wanted the boys to be able to talk with each other, cause with personalities as strong as ~~Damian's~~ theirs, they would never start to get along from simple messages written on notebooks! So some time face to face would do them good. ~~Plus, it gives me the excuse to write cute scenes for them~~.


End file.
